Brains
Brains, grey matter
French bread crusty crunch
Chain links of a rusted metal fence
Armed and ready forces
Take over the conversation.
An interruption, a pause
A slight second of rest.
She lays quietly to contemplate
What staying will do
Cost the Mission.
Red and orange and a slight tinge
Of blue
Remain on her fingers
As she crosses the divide
Plunging into unknown territory
Where are the alley cats?
Will the guard dog chase?
Can she keep running?
A tree, tall and round
Sturdy with stable logic
Asks the question
Would it hurt to stay?
The leaves change and drop
Landscape will be the same
And yet not.
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